


2.4

by bonebo



Series: Kinktober '17 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Knife Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 07:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12271611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: 4.Bukakke| Knife Play |Begging





	2.4

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evanelric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanelric/gifts).



He’s at his most dangerous like this--towering and imposing, clad in black with the single bulb dangling overhead throwing his scarred face into heavy shadow--and yet Jesse has never, ever, been harder for his commander in his goddamn life.

They’ve chosen the interrogation room under the base for their play, tonight; the G. Reyes lock code on the door ensures no one can get in, while the rope and chain holding Jesse kneeling on the cold concrete floor ensures he can’t leave. The rough twine chafes his wrists behind his back and he loves it, loves it almost as much as the bite of cold chain that brushes against his throbbing cock when he squirms fitfully.

(Gabriel had asked about the blindfold, before they’d gone down--and while Jesse did love being blind and helpless in his deviously-creative lover’s hands, the sight of Gabriel this way was too much of a treat to pass up.)

Before him, Gabriel stands: feet squared and shoulders set, in the nondescript gear that Jesse recognizes from many an interrogation session of the bloody variety. In one hand he holds a small knife with a handle of carved bone; and in the other, a coiled bullwhip. Jesse’s gaze settles upon them, and as he stares he immediately sees them for what they are.

His options.

On one hand is the whip: and Jesse knows its bite intimately, knows that one strike can have him howling. He knows that _Gabriel_ knows just how hard to hit to make him whine, to leave red marks on him for days afterward; knows the right way to move his wrist to have the tip of whip wrapping around his belly and marking him up what feels like everywhere at once. But the blade--the blade is so much more delicate, and Gabriel is masterful in his finely-tuned hurt, knows just the best way to pull up Jesse’s blood on command and paint him in the living proof of his ownership.

Gabriel clears his throat, and Jesse snaps himself out of his reverie with a shake, tearing his gaze away from the weapons and up to his dom’s face instead. One of Gabriel’s brows raise, and Jesse swallows thickly, heeding the cue to hurry up and choose before his choice is made for him.

“The knife, sir,” he whispers, and delights in how Gabriel’s eyes light up, how the blade spins in his eager hands.

He straightens up and arches his chest out ever so slightly, offering up the scarred and marred skin yet again, ever-eager to present as an offering for his Gabriel.


End file.
